


Beacon

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Skynet: 900 [16]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. Isolation is not the best medicine.





	Beacon

**Author's Note:**

> _Skynet_ spoilers. MOOD.
> 
> #whocares

Now was one of those rare times Noah actually wished the rain would just inexplicably appear and let down. Admittedly, he liked the weather phenomenon for what it was - a change in the world state that would either prove gentle enough to not impede flight or impose enough of a danger that he knew it was better to keep his feet on the ground. It was soothing to listen to, even to let it just drench him from head to toe. So long as he didn’t track too much of it inside any given building, what was the harm?

Ergo, at the moment, he was decidedly disappointed there was not a single cloud of freshwater vapor in sight. A too-starry night sky stretched off in every direction. The singular light of the Millikan State Park Lighthouse paled compared to the iridescence of the CyberLife Tower, jutting like a spear from the southern end of Belle-Isle, just north of this outcrop. The air temperature was a tepid 50°, with no windchill. The only noises at present was the semi-distant drone of traffic, the almost-silent machinery of the sixty-four-foot tall lighthouse (replica, so the website proclaimed), and the impartial, heavy cracks of thawing, springtime river ice breaking away from the waterfront.

A little rain wouldn’t hurt to help muffle it all.

Inside and out.

Each time the lamplight rotated around, half-casting him in its glow, felt like an unwanted interrogation spotlight. But before he could think to tell it to get lost, there it went. Something about the repetitive nature of it was easy to tune himself out to.

As such, Noah heard the flap of wings on approach minutes before they actually set down. Stooped over the metal railing, trying out the pose as much as indulging in an hour of semi-private self-pity, he straightened up the moment it became clear they were getting closer.

Dopplering in for a clumsy landing, he knew just as quickly there was nothing to worry about. Only one android from Central could have such gummed-up feathers, and had seen him leave, _and_ would have had the initiative to try and follow.

Barely three hours after it happened, word of his latest confrontation with Vernon had gotten around.

Why else would his RK800 lookalike be here?

Nevertheless, Noah couldn’t help bristling a bit at the almost-unwanted interruption. The lingering hurt needed at least a taste of release.

“I don’t remember inviting you to follow me, Nicholas.”

Piece said, he glared over his shoulder to behold the inevitable, sheepish reply.

“Sorry, I just - just wanted to check up on you.” Awkwardly lingering a bit behind him, Nick wrapped his arms around himself, worrying on his bottom lip. “I can leave if you want, just… wanted to make sure you're… okay.”

How painfully predictable of him.

“All systems fully operational.” Droning, sounding no more deviant than the day he stepped off an assembly station, Noah ended the remark with a grimace. “I’m - okay as can be.”

Yes, it was a flagrant lie. But he had to at least take a cursory effort at making it. His earned reputation as a selective loner demanded such. Nicholas didn’t know what such routines felt like. He was the polar opposite, with a textbook case of separation anxiety hampering his day-to-day functions.

That was his way of coping with stress - clinginess.

How it hadn’t gotten him shot or worse in the meantime was nothing short of astonishing, for the wrong reasons.

Forcing his expression to go blank, Noah scoffed and looked aside. “Was there anything else?”

“Not really. Just… I dunno. He's wrong, you know. He's the one who was in the wrong.” Broaching the topic at the core of this encounter, it didn't even matter whether he actually said Vernon's name or not. They both knew who he was talking about. “We don't have to talk about it, though. Just didn't want you to be alone.”

Noah kept his hands on the railing - the better alternative to clenching them or crossing his arms. He kept his eyes on the far bank of the river. Ontario was looking like a very tempting runaway destination at the moment.

Even if it was only for a few hours.

“Alone is what I do best,” he groused, voice low and flat. “I didn’t know I was aspiring to it all along, but today has certainly been… eye-opening.”

“J-just because he said that, doesn't mean it's true. He's not - he doesn't speak for anyone else. You don't have to be alone,” Nick half-argued, but with no fight in his voice. If Noah really wanted to be alone, who was the RK800 to say no? Just another naysayer to shrug off. “You don't deserve that.”

Now there was a slippery slope to avoid. Talking about what one did or didn’t deserve was as progressive as putting anchors on before takeoff. It didn’t get you anywhere.

“It’s what I’m good at,” Noah repeated, with a touch more insistence than before. “My experiences to date support it.”

Not much evidence Nicholas could shoot back with from that. If Gavin Reed was the pariah of Central’s human populace, of course any android partner assigned to him would adapt to match. Even if someone like Vernon discredited even those efforts, dismissed it all as nothing, it didn’t change the conclusion Reed and Noah made a good pair of outcasts.

Every social situation had its kind.

“If that's what you say…” Trailing off, Nick inched forward a cautious step or two, but stopped before he could begin to crowd Noah even more than he already had. “Doesn't mean you have to be, though. I'm - not that I know exactly what it feels like, but… for a bit, Connor was sort of the same way. Doesn't make you feel welcome, at all.”

By that standard, the station may as well have been full of Connors. With only a handful of exceptions, Noah wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t see how distanced most of his colleagues remained. At one time, he might have attributed the phenomenon to Gavin’s abrasive personality, and his proximity thereto.

But today, there wasn’t even that excuse to fall back on. It was him and all the “nothing” he brought to the table.

“Granted. I don’t expect Vernon’s opinion of me to improve, either. It’d probably be better for all concerned if I simply disregarded it.” Pausing to let it sink in, he looked back and added, “When did you stop caring what Connor thought of you?”

It was a rather moot question. Anyone could see the Interceptors has rapport. But for a time, while the corruption investigation ran everyone ragged, even they grew apart by a few degrees.

“I dunno. I guess I didn't, I mean… it still matters a lot to me. When things got better, it wasn't as bad. Like it is now.” Shrugging, Nick frowned at his own analysis. “And Dennis was there. It's good to have someone to tell you that they're wrong about you.”

“A critic for your critics, in other words.” Scratching a fingernail along the railing, appreciating the minute pits and rugged ice particles, Noah mulled that over. “Emilia’s given him a lecture by now, I’m positive. For all the good it won’t do.”

“At least he'll hear it, though. Even if he doesn't think he did anything wrong, he should at least know that everyone else does.”

An optimistic cherry atop a pessimistic sundae, he shouldn’t have expected anything different. But he wasn’t quite over his desire to wallow. The view was too picturesque to not assign it some greater meaning.

Namely, the glittering spire just up the river. At the moment it looked too pretty and innocent, compared to the company it represented.

Forget running away. That urge was quickly replaced with the irrational desire to fly over there and smash one of those lattice-covered windows, pretend it reflected Vernon’s face. CyberLife had trillions. They could afford a replacement.

“It… reminds me of something I once said to you,” Noah admitted, if only to take his mind off the childish wish. He was more mature than a few months suggested. “About not knowing anything? I was wrong. You know more on what it is to get along with someone.”

“I guess I do, but…  with Vernon, it's really not you. No way you could get along with him if you didn’t from the beginning.” Nick admitted, almost sheepishly. This was almost his same model they were talking about. Even their wings were an unintended match, swallow to red kite. “I'm not saying it's right, but he - he just chooses who he likes and doesn't like, no in-between. No use trying to get along with him, if he decides he doesn't like you.”

Therein lay the unspoken question of why he was even trying, or letting the failure to connect bother him so. But thankfully it went unsaid. This point it plainly enough: their personalities were not compatible.

Noah scoffed at that, rubbing the heel of his hand against one eye in a facsimile of intimating fatigue. “It’s nevertheless - invalidating. As if so much time and effort spent on me was for nothing. I can’t relate to my own series, yet Emilia seemingly has no trouble there at all.”

Was it him, or was he made with considerably less care? Burning through at least four bodies before rollout would seem to indicate as much, besides an overly-long development period. He wasn’t privy to Vernon’s or Emilia’s version histories, but he still had a hunch neither was half as long.

Neither was Connor’s, if Noah were forced to guess. Their two lines had run parallel up to a point, if his predecessor had been greenlit to leave Belle-Isle before him. That said a lot.

“Well… Emilia likes you, though, she cares for you. I dunno what to say for Vernon.” What was there to explain about the android in question, besides how socially inept he was, when it came to other androids. “He just sorta… chose to not like you. Again, it's not fair, but just… you look too similar to Connor for him, as well.”

Did everything just boil down to looks?

Sighing, half in a growl, Noah straightened up, crossing his arms in loud, undeniable aggravation. Air vented, he turned halfway back to glare at the timid RK800. “I look too much like him. I act too much like - something else. Meanwhile I don’t hold the fact he looks too much like _you_ against him, Nicholas, or vice versa.”

One would think that would be reciprocated. Instead, the fallout from Connor’s poor treatment of the Interceptors’ third spilled over. That was hardly a fair basis to judge anyone by.

And here he was on the verge of doing the same.

Hands going up, cradled against his chest, Nick swallowed as he clearly searched for whatever he was going to say. “I know, I'm sorry, Noah. It's not right of him to do that to you, or Connor, but he's doing it anyways. I can go, if you want.”

He could. It would certainly make old #080 251 976 happy, to know his lookalike was nowhere within hearing distance of a certain conceited, defective malcontent. They were probably already asking for trouble, talking as long as they had.

Realistically, Noah already figured he was in for trouble as soon as Gavin Reed learned about this. The man did not know what it was to leave unturned rocks facing down. Why cast more fuel on that firepit before the match was struck and tossed in?

Just the casual thought of fire brought an involuntary twitch to his shoulders. Wings mantling, covering it with a restless shudder, he glanced aside, bit his lip, then looked back. “Perhaps you should. That’s enough - bad blood stirred up for one night.”

Unintentionally and not.

“Okay.” Sounding semi-dejected, Nick tilted his head toward him, almost looking curious as he thought of something altogether new. “Are you… going to go see Gavin, now? You know, I know he's not even an android, but he cares about you, too.”

Right. One of those handful of people who could be said did, and Reed was arguably the thumb of the bunch, making sure the other digits had something to cue off of.

“He cares insofar as the job is concerned,” Noah retorted, fingers digging into his sleeves. That was as much as he could admit out loud, even if privately was a whole other story. Gavin wouldn’t appreciate his colleagues hearing how soft babysitting an android was actually turning him, a confirmed anti-android bigot. “Last time I turned up unannounced, I… he… he’s not Lieutenant Anderson.”

A clumsy deflection, it got the message across.

The impartial lighthouse beam rotated above their heads again, casting a cone of yellow light across the riverfront in a wide arc.

“Sure.” Sounding unconvinced, Nick left it at that, though, choosing not to pry any further into that topic. Or, at least, that point. “...Will you talk to him about it, though? About Vernon? Before he does something that could be considered… dumb?”

“You already know I’ll have to.” Edgy as that came out, Noah soft pedalled it with a dismissive snort. “Detective Reed may be visiting the emergency room in the next twenty-four hours, regardless of when he finds out.”

Said visit would be a product of no more than said man’s bullheaded tactics to settle problems. The second he pulled a gun on Vernon, his wrists would end up broken.

That wouldn’t be ideal for anyone.

“Yeah… he's not one to settle down just with words.” Nick muttered, grimacing as he did so. Even if he himself didn't have the best memories or feelings associated with Gavin, he could at least say that much. “Hopefully he'll at least listen to you. Or Vernon will leave the station for the night.”

Yes, there was a chance of that. Worst case scenario, there was the option known as “poke the dragon and fly away very, very fast”.

“Hmph. I don’t suppose you could run interference there?”

“I could try. He probably won't listen, but if I get in between, he won't do anything… probably.” Thinking it over, Nick nodded again, more confident this time. “Yeah, I'll do my best to make sure Gavin doesn't get hurt, if he does go at Vernon.”

Or the other way around.

“Thank you, I’ll do the same.” Marginally better off with this contingency plan in mind, Noah managed a half smile. How real or forced it was, he couldn’t even discern. “That is, I’ll make sure to get the gun away from him.”

“Good thinking. I dunno if a bullet would actually scare or infuriate Vernon more. Best not to find out right now.”

“A headslap won’t have the same effect for Detective Reed that it once did.” The smile faded, albeit only because dealing with Gavin’s reaction might seem light now, but the reality of it was no laughing matter. “Pft. Perhaps I should greet him with one tomorrow, let him know what kind of day we’re in for.”

A tease was the best he could manage. How serious it was it wasn’t - that would depend on Reed and Vernon.

“I'm not so sure he'll appreciate that.” Nick gave his own weak smile at Noah's words, following his lead to try and lighten the mood some, before whatever would inevitably follow later on. “He didn't seem to like it the first time, at least. Maybe it'll do some more good, though.”

Better than nothing, and in any case, the low, isolating mood of before was creeping back into play. Even in the presence of some helpful, supportive company, it didn’t seem to relinquish its hold just yet.

Was this what depression manifested as, for an android?

Perhaps. Noah legitimately missed the days when it was easier to not to give a damn. Programming was good for walling such sensations off with. Even if his walls had gaps, they had started out much smaller than they seemed now.

“What about you?” He tried turning the focus around, uninventive as the query was. “This time of night - aren’t you supposed to be ‘in bed’?”

“Most likely, yeah. But who's going to stop me? I don't need permission to leave.” Nick sounded just a bit unsure of that, though, as if wasn't entirely positive he wasn't breaking any rules. “Dennis and Connor will comm me if they need anything, or - wonder where I am.”

“Meaning, you snuck away, and are expecting an _angry_ comm any second now.” With a scoff that was not quite a laugh, Noah let his folded arms drop, refolding them behind his back. Hopefully it didn’t come across as too authoritarian. “I knew there was a catch.”

“I - well, okay, sort of. If they send one, I'll head back. Not my fault they weren't keeping an eye on everything…”

“Translation: you should head back _now_ , before they realize you’re gone.” Irrational as it was to feel jealous of the idea someone would notice you missing and be angry and therefore worried, Noah broke out another smirk to cover any sign of it. “If they want to shout at anyone, you can say it was all my idea.”

“Pfft. Yeah, I'm not gonna say that.” Letting his arms fall back down to rest at his sides, Nick glanced back up toward the sky with a frown, before looking back at Noah. “Sorry, again. Didn't mean to pull you into this as well.”

“You didn’t. I offered to step in.”

It was preferable to standing out on the sidelines again. Whether the exile was self-imposed or not, neither setup felt too nice.

Unhealthy as the thinking was, getting yelled at would mean he was being acknowledged.

Better that than nothing.


End file.
